


Seven Ends

by Glass_O_Lemonade



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24777073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_O_Lemonade/pseuds/Glass_O_Lemonade
Summary: Death becomes us all. Eventually.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	Seven Ends

_There is an end to everything. Death, in all its forms, is a universal absolute._

_Cells live._

_Cells die._

_Stars live._

_Stars die._

_One may delay, outrun, prevent their initial demise, but never their ultimate fate. Death comes for us all._

_Eventually._

With everything human, there's a limit. There's a limit to one's abilities... one's endurance... one's strength.

In your youth you would engage combat without a second thought to the danger, without a second thought to the risk. You were never alone. You were always the first to answer, the first to volunteer, the first to enter, the first to leave. Surrounded by your team, _your family_ , you were safe, near invincible. Despite escalated encounters, you knew you would succeed. You were never alone.

And then- you engaged in combat without a second thought- but this time- _this time-_

You were young. You were all young.

This time you engaged in combat without a second thought, but you should have thought. _You should have._ You know that now. As blood dries on the palms of your hands, staining your skin, staining your mind, you know now. You should have thought. A second. A third. A first. Even a moment. _A_ _cautionary, necessary, priceless_ _moment_.

You shoulder the blood and the body, the corpse of your team member, your brother. You carry him away, somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. You carry him away, but you are already too late. You shoulder your brother's death for years, wherever you go, for the rest of your life.

You were too late.

You were always the first to answer, the first to volunteer, the first to enter, the first to leave. You were the first found as a days old infant. You were the first to die. Weren't you? Weren't you meant to be the first to die? Meant to protect until the end? But you weren't. You weren't the first to die. You protected no one.

There is a portrait in the main room of a brother you did not stop.

There is a statue in the courtyard of a brother you did not save.

~~_Who next?_ ~~

No longer do you feel near invincible. As your siblings leave, your team dissolves in the matter of nights. With no one left to lead, you are no leader. You are a man. A single man. The protection provided by your siblings on missions is a memory of what was. Not what is.

You are a man. A single man. Yet, you stay. What else can you do? There's always a mission that will need you. If you leave, too... you already have enough innocent blood on your hands.

Your father says the world needs you. Your father says the world still needs you. You and your siblings.

You stay.

The alarm rings.

Nothing out of your ordinary.

The alarm rings. Your father states there is a mission. A mission needing you.

You are a man. A single human man. With everything human, there's a limit. There's a limit to one's abilities... one's endurance... one's strength. Including your own enhanced abilities... your own enhanced endurance... your own enhanced strength...

As the building erupts into flames around you, you step forward. In pursuit. You must finish the mission. You must succeed. Yet-

There's- there's too many of them. They're too far away. Through the smoke and flames you see as they escape out through a side door.

A single vat still stands, untouched. Water. You need water. Sprinklers. To stop the flames. Protect the weapon.

You turn in your haste, forgetting to look up. The suspects fled. You saw them. They all-

You forget to look up. Someone throws an object from the second floor. Another follows after. They catch your shoulder, bruise you, momentarily knock you off your feet. (Were they safes? Desks? There's no time to check.) You stumble forward, but catch yourself. You back up, the smoke seeming thicker than before.

A gun cocks. You know that sound. After years in the academy, you _know_ that sound. A gun cocks, and you are unable to prevent what happens next. No amount of strength can help you. Not now. The bullet- or was it bullets- breaks through the glass of the final standing vat.

You're too late.

_You're too close._

Your scream is one of intense agony as the biochemical substance eats at your chest, your arms. Your uniform corrodes away in seconds. Your skin corrodes next, leaving you open, bloody, and raw. You fall to your knees, overcome by the torturous pain of it all. Shouts sound from the floor above. Something hits your bowed head, a cry escapes you. You're on your back. How? When? You're on your back. Absently, you feel shards of glass under you.

It hurts too much to scream. Your breaths are labored.

It's quiet now.

They must have left. Whoever was still there.

There's a hole in your chest. You have no chest. Not now. Just a hole.

Your world is flames, burns, and pain. Excruciating pain.

You think of Ben.

You wonder how he felt, how he felt when he...

You are Number One.

You are Luther.

You are Number One.

You are Spaceboy.

You are Luther Hargreeves.

_You are human._

You're... you're warm.

Rescue finds you late.

Too late.

Death finds you first.

Trapped in mid-scream.


End file.
